One problem with letting Jodi slip back into my life really bugged me: I could never get her out of my mind. It seemed I was thinking about her every second of the day—I should be thinking about schoolwork and scholarships.
Chapter Fourteen
"What would you like to do Thanksgiving Day?" Mom asked.
She sat at her dressing table painting her nails red. I watched from her bedroom doorway. The polish smelled like airplane glue. She was getting ready to go to work.
She works for the local radio and TV station, 1420 on your tuner, Channel 6 on your TV. She does voice-overs for commercials for local advertisers. She also models dress and coats for locally produced fashion catalogs. She's really good at what she does and loves her work.
She has a degree in Theater Arts and taught high school for a couple of years. Then I came along, and she decided she needed to be a full-time mom. Seems like when I was younger I was a big troublemaker. Still am, I guess.
"Thanksgiving's not till next week," I said.
"It'll be here in no time. Everything seems to be happening at once. Christmas commercials to tape tonight—we're behind schedule. Thanksgiving is right around the corner. What would you like to do?"
Mom stopped painting a moment and popped an M&M into her mouth. She'd quit smoking.
That had been my only major complaint about my mom, smoking. But a week ago I'd caught her dragging a plastic garbage bag out from under the sink. She held the bag open with one hand and with the other hand, one by one, she dropped ashtrays into it. Plastic, tin, cut glass—all ashtrays crashed into the bottom of the bag. She's gone crazy, I'd thought. "What are you doing?"
"I've quit smoking!"
"Since when?"
"Since today." She smiled proudly. "I went to a hypnotist this morning, and he said the first thing I should do after I got home is throw away every ashtray in the house."
Since Mom had given up smoking, she'd set little dishes of M&M candies around the house. She nibbled on the candy whenever she felt a nicotine fit coming on. She was afraid of getting fat, but I couldn't see that she'd gained an ounce.
"Well," she repeated, "what would you like to do on Thanksgiving?"
"Nothing special."
Mom hadn't cooked turkey, dressing, sweet potatoes, cranberries, and pumpkin pie for years. We could never eat all the leftovers. Dad always took us out.
Mom dipped her nailbrush into the tiny red bottle. "Would you like to eat at home?" She paused before touching the brush to her nail. "Invite Jodi?"
I leaned against the doorjamb and frowned. I'd never given such an idea a thought. "I don't think so. She'll probably want to spend the day with her grandparents."
"We could invite them all over."
"No way."
"Maybe it's time we meet her grandparents. Someday we'll all be family." Mom blew on her fingernails, and then inspected them. "Have you been seeing Jodi?"
"A bit. I took her to the doctor that one Friday morning when we didn't have school because of the snow. I helped her with algebra. We talk a little at school."
"Are you and she...making plans?"
"Nothing serious. We're friends. It's like we're just getting to know each other."
"Have you talked about the baby? What Jodi'll do after it's born? What you'll do?"
Why all these questions? I scratched the back of my neck. I felt uneasy. "She's going to keep the baby, that's all I know for sure."
"Travis and Lois agree?"
"That's what Jodi says."
"You and Jodi have a very serious responsibility, Michael."
"I realize that."
Mom returned the brush to the bottle, screwed the top down.
Shifting my weight against the doorjamb, I said, "I'm not really sure the baby's mine." A stubborn streak gripped me. Man, I wasn't going to let myself be pushed around. "I mean, I'm not saying it is someone else's, but it could be."
"You really think she's lying to you?"
"It's a possibility."
"Jodi seems to be a very forthright young lady." Mom blew on her fingernails again. "I think she'd tell you the truth."
"That night when she called me and said she was pregnant, I automatically assumed I was to blame. I didn't start having doubts until after I hung up, and I remembered Luke, that guy we met when we left Ghost Bay. He was her boyfriend in high school. You remember meeting him—we talked about him before."
"He seemed polite. A nice-looking young man. Have you asked her about him?"
"She told me he was home on leave from the Navy, and they dated, but if I thought the baby was his, I was wrong. I asked her how she knew, and she's like, 'I know, that's how I know.' That's what she said: 'I know.'"
Mom popped three M&Ms into her mouth. "She wants you to trust her, Michael. It would mean a lot to her."
I threw my hands up. "But this baby might have red hair."
"Where is Luke now?"
"Aboard a carrier in the Persian Gulf. She may never see him again, so she's saying I'm the baby's father."
Mom pondered that a moment. She stood and peered at herself in her mirror. Fluffed her hair. Then she turned and faced me. "Michael, I think you're hiding from the truth, that's why you don't want Jodi and her grandparents over for Thanksgiving."
I stood straight. "This baby might have red hair," I said again. Why doesn't Mom understand?
"Listen to me. You're avoiding taking responsibility because, if you're the father, your plans for college and football will be in serious jeopardy. Isn't that right?"
"I'm not avoiding the responsibility—I just want to make sure the responsibility is actually mine."
"You're afraid of how much your life might change, while Jodi's has already changed. Drastically."
"I've worked hard for grades and a chance for a scholarship. I—"
Mom's hand shot out, fingers spread wide, silencing me. "It's a serious situation you've gotten yourself into, Michael."
"You don't have to keep telling me that."
"Jodi and the baby come first."
"I know."
"Just keep it in mind."
"Mom, please..."
Then she smiled at me. "But I won't force you to have Jodi and her grandparents over for Thanksgiving."
"Thanks."
Mom and I decided we'd eat Thanksgiving dinner at the Machine Shed, like always, just as if Dad were present. And as I turned from Mom's doorway, an astonishing question clunked me on the head. Could the baby have red hair and still be mine? Travis's hair was a faded red, almost gray. Jodi and her mom were blonde. When the sun shone on Jodi's blonde hair, it sometimes appeared reddish. Like a strawberry blonde. Maybe I shouldn't be questioning Jodi's word at all.
One problem with letting Jodi slip back into my life really bugged me: I could never get her out of my mind. It seemed I was thinking about her every second of the day—I should be thinking about schoolwork and scholarships. And no matter how suspicious I was if her, I couldn't think about her without feeling a twinge of excitement. Finally, I caved in. I called Jodi the Friday after Thanksgiving and asked her for a date. I mean, you know, just so we could talk. Like Mom suggested.
I mean, I really hadn't seen her or talked to her since she'd stopped me in the hall at school and told me thanks again for helping her with algebra. She'd earned a B+ on her test.
After she came to the phone and we went through the usual questions of "How are you?", "What's happening?", I asked her if she'd like to do something Saturday night.
"Do what?"
"Go out, a movie or something. There's a rock concert at the Civic Center. Or I can find a kegger."
"I don't drink. Besides, I'm pregnant. Remember?"
"Right."
"Who said I wanted to go out with you, anyway?"
"Hey, look," I said, "what are friends for? A friend wouldn't let a friend sit around home every weekend doing nothing, would he?"
"Who says I'm doing nothing every weekend?"
"Got a date Saturday night?"
"Maybe."
Jealousy tweaked me. Completely unexpected. "Who you going out with?" My voice sounded gruff.
"I don't have to tell you."
"You're dating in your condition?"
"What condition? I'm pregnant, Michael. I don't have a disease."
A long silence followed.
I didn't know what to say.
"All right," Jodi said at last. "I'm not going out with anyone, and I'd like to do something. I'd like to go eagle watching."
Eagle watching!
What kind of thing was that to do? I knew people around here went down to the Mississippi River at Credit Island this time of year to watch eagles and count them, but I didn't actually know anyone who did that. Eagle watching had always sounded pretty stupid to me. I mean, watching birds—c'mon. Give me a break. What's with that?
"Okay...right," I said. "We'll go eagle watching. Sounds like fun."
Coming Friday—Chapter Fifteen: Michael decides he can be Jodi's friend—a good friend—but not fall in love with her.
